


Oscillate Wildly

by Morrie_Wilde



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Bartender!gwaine, Drunk Sex, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Gay Sex, Inspired by Music, Irish!Merlin, Light Angst, M/M, Miserable!Arthur, Modern Era, Music, One Shot, Oral Sex, PWP, Piano, Pwp with a bit of plot, Rough Sex, Song: Piano Man (Billy Joel), Whiskey - Freeform, drunk, pianist!merlin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:53:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23743366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morrie_Wilde/pseuds/Morrie_Wilde
Summary: “ Tell you what. I bet you two hundred quid. I’ll choose your target, the most miserable git that will be here tonight. You got the evening to make him fall for your charms.”Merlin considers the bet, and fills his glass again. Before he could make a decision, Gwaine's voice rises again.“And you are only allowed to perform ! No whispering in his ear, no fingers on thigh, nothing.”OR It's Tuesday,  Arthur is miserable and goes out to drink, Merlin is a pianist at the Rising sun, and there's a bet.
Relationships: Gwaine/Merlin (Merlin), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 116





	Oscillate Wildly

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Piano Man, from Billy Joel. Don't ask me why I came up with such a fic listening to thay song, I don't know either.
> 
> Title inspired my Oscillate Wildly, from the Smith. Song inspired by Oscar Wilde. Have you seen my pen name ? Yeah, it's all coming together...! 
> 
> Complete lost of the song at the end of the chapter. 
> 
> Not beta'd. 
> 
> Enjoy!

**Oscillate Wildly**

An other spreadsheet. Numbers. Percentages. Ratios. Margins. It all seems in order. Or it’s all wrong. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t care. Like the most annoying clock, he taps his pencil on the wooden desk. His suit, though devilishly well tailored, swallows him a bit more at each new line of numbers. Boredom does not start to describe his current state. Sitting in his office, surrounded by unique pieces of art, tapestries and ostentatious furniture, he feels trapped in a bubble out of space and time, where nothing makes sense, and all senses are alienated.

Standing in front of him, his plaque engraved in gold teases him. Is he the Arthur Pendragron that this desk is supposed to host? He wishes to make everything disappear. Not himself, but the world around him. Or maybe himself indeed. He places the stack of papers on his right, and grabs a new one from his left.

Numbers. Percentages. Ratios. Margins.

His leg bounces up and down, his nails are clicking on the side of his desks. His pencil is on the floor. He is about to explode, or implode, and he hopes that when he does, the whole room goes down with him.

Two knocks.

Arthur stares at the door, and see his assistant coming in. She is so perfectly put together : her hair, her make up, her outfit, and even to the tip of her fingers, her nail polish is flawless. Mithian walks directly to him and drops more paperwork.

“Sir, Pendragon Senior needs this before tonight.” And she leaves.

No salary, no bonus, no 4* restaurants and no bottle of brandy can fill up the void his job is digging into his soul. And he hates himself because he is still going to do his job, up to the perfection his father requires. Each time his pen touches the paper, he feels like his grave is getting closer.

At twelve, he doesn’t bother to leave his office to eat. He is not even sure when was the last time he ate. A faint ramble behind his door let’s him know that his employee are going on their break, and he just stares blankly at his ceiling, lost in the curves of the Victorian mouldings.

“Arthur!”

He fixes his glare on his sister, who apparently came in without him noticing. Her red pencil dress accentuates her lipstick, and her long dark hair falls down her shoulder in a controlled mess. He hears the click clack of her heels getting louder, more than he sees her stopping towards him.

“You're alright?” her voice, ever so cold and sharp, is momently tainted with what he believes to be worries.

“I am fine Morgana.” He snaps. They were never doing this nonsense chitchat. They only talked about business and if it was not for their shared family name, no one would have believed they were siblings. He blames Uther, for breeding to heartless machines. In reality, he knew they were capable of showing emotions, but he dreads it. Weakness – and according to his father, emotions are weaknesses – are not allowed for a Pendragon.

“Mithian, Gwen, Lance and I are going to the Rising Sun tonight. Care to join us?” He could definitely hear it now. His sister spoke softly, and it ranged to much like pity. He wonders if his misery is that obvious, that even Morgana feels she has to do something. But he guesses that a night of drinking could be just what he needs – getting shitfaced to forget everything momentarily.

He nods. She leaves.

Numbers. Percentages. Ratios. Margins.

_____________

Gwaine is stocking up the bar shelves and fridges, humming some random tune. He knows this was supposed to be done yesterday night, but he could not be bothered at the time. It was just Tuesday, and missing a dozen beers in the fridge is not the end of the world. And he might have been totally wasted by the end of his last shift.

Percival is standing by the bar, elbow propped on the counter, cider in hand. Even if it was just 6pm and therefore, the Rising Sun was still closed, the head of security always enjoys to spend some time there with no light and no music, for his own sanity.

But yes, today was Tuesday, and he doesn’t mind Tuesdays that much. It is their live music night, and it usually brings a niche clientele, depending on the genre played on the night. Apparently, tonight is blues, or jazz or something.

“Hey Gwaine! Who’s playing tonight?” He finally asks, mostly out of curiosity than real interest.

The bartender jumps back on his feet, his black trousers slightly dirty around the knees. His long hair is a mess and hangs wildly before his face. With his hands, he puts it back behind his ear and grabs a piece of paper, stained with unidentified alcohols.

“ A guy named Merlin. Just him and a piano. Don’t know what he is gonna play, but it’s definitely gonna be better that the shit we play in the weekend eh?” the bartender grins.

Percival smiles back, glad to know it’s not gonna be one of those so called artist that considers that random noises is music if you put your hands up in the air.

The owner, a guy name Cenred, doesn’t really care about what kind of music is played. On the weekends, he usually goes for the overly commercial tunes, just because it brings all those young people, willing to spend six quid for a pint. That’s how he makes his money, but during the week days, he enjoys a slower pace. And his brand new idea is to bring actual live music in his club. He is targeting a more adult clientele, and so far, it’s the favourite day of the week for all employees.

Percival never gets in a fight, Gwaine can chat up as much people as he wants at the bar, Elyan, the new bar pack, can learn to do the cocktails and other drinks. So yes, they all loved Tuesdays. The lights were not flashing, the sound level was loud enough to enjoy the gig, but low enough to actually have a conversation, and the few customers, usually about twenty, actually know how to enjoy their drinks.

Gwaine is now slicing some lemons, when he gets interrupted. A young man stand by the bar, next to Percy. The security agent is about to notify the man that they are still closed, but Gwaine cuts him off before he could talk.

“Hello there. What brings such a charming man here tonight?” the bartender harbours his hungry smile, eyeing the boy.

“I’m Merlin. I’m playing tonight.” Both employees are now contemplating the musician, surprised. He is tall, and his black hair contrasts heavenly with his white skin. He has something, in his demeanour, that just screams lust. Gwaine clear his throats, trying to get rid off improper mental thoughts including the pianist, and offered him a drink.

“Would a whiskey sour be too much trouble?” Gwaine smirks at the order, and tried to contain himself. His voice his low and his Irish accent drags the word ‘trouble’ so melodically, that he can not stop imagining the same voice moaning his name.

“Nothing is too much trouble for you.” He winks, and starts to make the cocktail. Merlin leans against the bar and watches the bartender meticulously, not without stopping his glare longer than needed on Gwaine’s behind. He is brought back to reality as an old fashion glass appears before him. He rises his drink, eyes still locked on Gwaine.

“I’m not sure I’m thirsty for this any more.” And winks back, before downing the cocktail in one go. He slides the now empty glass into Gwaine’s hand, which was resting on the bar. Without detaching their eyes from each other's, the bartender catches it, and places it in the sink by his right, not caring that Elyan will complain about it. Merlin plunges his hand into his back pocket and gets out his wallet. He places a 50 pounds note on the counter, his long pale fingers dancing on the wood.

“The best bottle of whiskey this has to offer.” Oh yes, it definitely feels like tonight is going to be a good night, he thinks.

Gwaine grabs the note, battling his whole body to not jump over the bar already and ravish the Irish man. To Merlin's pleasure, the bartender turns around and seize a bottle of Redbreast, the only bottle of the brand actually, and presents it to him.

“Redbreast mmh? You know the way to an Irish man's bed eh?” Gwaine knows the bottle is worth more than fifty pounds, but he also knows no better customers could ever deserves the right to drink it. He could not bear to mix it with coke for a drunkard who would not even appreciate the velvety texture, and the oak and subtle fruity flavours.

Merlin lets his fingers running up and down the bottle, eyes still locked in Gwaine's. He leans closer and feels the hot breath of the bartender on his neck.

“Two options. You give me a glass so I can enjoy my whisky alone by the piano, or you keep the bottle behind the bar for the moment and you follow me.”

Gwaine’s knuckles are white, holding into the bar, and he doesn’t even fight the deep moan escaping him at the proximity of the man. As quick as he leaned over, Merlin backs off, and plays with the bottle on the bar for a few seconds, before pushing it towards Gwaine. He taps his fingers on the bar, his blue eyes going from the whiskey to the bartender, and slowly walks away, hands up. He is giving the man a choice, and whether he takes it or not, Merlin doesn’t really truly care. He is not looking for love, not looking for the one, but when a sexy long haired man can’t stop looking at him, he can not help to pull out his best flirtatious cards. And subtlety is just something he can’t be bothered about.

Gwaine glances back at Percy, who just giggles, seeing the state of the bartender. He nods to him, and the long haired man grabs the bottle and puts it behind him, on a random shelf. In long strides, he leaves the bar and finds himself standing by the black piano.

Merlin is sitting there, the keyboard still closed, and he nonchalantly rests his elbow on it. He realises the bartender did not bring his beloved beverage, and his glad to know he is gonna get drunk on something else.

Percy is now standing by the entrance and glancing at his watch. He is the only other person present at the club and knows the drill. It’s not uncommon for Gwaine to have a bit of fun, even if normally it’s after closing time.

“You got fifteen minutes, make the best of it.” And on those words, Percy leaves them alone, locking the door behind him.

Merlin can not help to rise an eyebrow. It seems this bartender is not stranger to impromptu one night stands, and that just makes him even more inquisitive. He stands up, and contemplates the man, dressed in a tight black t-shirt and dirty black Levis jeans.

Like an animal locked on his pray, he cages him, placing his arms around him against the piano. To his surprises, he is not the one to initiates the first contact. Gwaine hungrily grabs the musician’s hips, and pulls him into a messy and wet kiss. It’s not pretty to see, it’s dirty. Merlin pushes the body against the piano, and he is pleased to feel the man against his thigh, ridiculously hard and needy. Gwaine, in an expert gesture he has probably done a hundred times, undoes the pianist's leather belt and slides his hand under the trousers. He is rewarded by a faint ‘fuck' murmured in his ears as his hand grabs Merlin's cock. The musician goes back to devouring Gwaine's mouth, and loses his fingers in the long brown hair, before pulling it hard backward, forcing the bartender on his knees. Gwaine obliges, eyes darkened. On his way down, he unbuttons the pianist jeans, and releases his prick, now standing hard and proud. The bartender licks his lips and groans as Merlin pulls even harder on his hair. He doesn’t even want to tease the Irish man, he just wants to get his mouth filled. He places a kiss on the head of his coveted price, and in one movement, deep throats the whole length, eyes closed and moaning. Merlin struggles on his legs, loosing some self control at the unexpected move. He holds Gwaine in places with one hand, knowing that if the bartender dared to even breath, he would come. His eyes adventures themselves down, and meet the bartender's, now open. He can see his lips obscenely smirking, despite being busy. Merlin finally releases his grip, and Gwaine starts a ballet, starring tongue, teeth and spit. Definitely an experienced man, Merlin thinks.

Two more minutes, it’s all it takes for Merlin to come, warm and deep in the worker's throat, who swallows, moaning blissfully. He doesn’t waste any drop, and licks the contour of his lips, grinning from ear to ear. He stands up again, and widen his eyes as Merlin’s mouth come crushing back on his, his tongue tasting himself. The bartender giggles, pleased to find someone who is willing to reciprocates, as long pale fingers make their way down his too tight trousers.

He will never admit it to anyone, but having Merlin biting his neck while barely touching him is all it takes. The pianist breaks away, not without smirking, his eyes admiring the hot mess he made of the bartender. Gwaine takes a deep breath and shakes his head.

“You're good eh?” the bartender shouts, almost running back behind the bar.

“Could say the same!” Merlin shouts back, buttoning his trousers back on. He sits on the bench, and opens the piano keyboard. If it was not for a slight redness on his cheeks, no one would guess he just got one of the best blowjobs in a very long time.

He openly laughs as Gwaine comes back and places two coasters on the perfectly glossy black lacquered instrument. One glass, and the Redbreast bottle.

“Your whiskey, sir.” As he talks, Gwaine backs off in a ridiculous reverence, and Merlin chuckles heartily. An experienced partners that doesn’t run away after their little affairs is complete? Merlin can’t deny, it’s refreshing. Still eyeing the bartender, he brings a half full glass to his lips and downs it all.

“What's your name?” there is a playful and almost evil light in Merlin's blue orbs.

“Gwaine. Best bartender in town, at your service.” He exclaims from behind the bar.

Merlin plays mindlessly on the piano to warm up, and he still harbours a smirk.

“Tell you what Gwaine.” The music stops. He places hundred pounds under the bottle. “ Let’s make our evening more exciting eh? The first one to score tonight gets the money.”

Gwaine laughs from at the top of his lungs. Tuesdays are really becoming his favourite nights.

“That’s unfair mate! Look at you, you could charm anybody!”. Merlin nods at the statement. The bartender – Gwaine, he remembers – might have a point. “ Tell you what. I bet you two hundred quid. I’ll choose your target, the most miserable git that will be here tonight. You got the evening to make him fall for your charms.”

Merlin considers the bet, and fills his glass again. Before he could make a decision, Gwaine's voices rises again.

“And you are only allowed to perform ! No whispering in his ear, no fingers on thigh, nothing.” Gwaine's head pop's from under the bar, as beer bottles cling together in the fridge.

“So if I succeed, I get the two hundreds and I get laid, and if I lose, you get the money. It doesn’t seem fair, does it?” He replies, playing with the dark liquid.

“Alright then” says Gwaine, back on his feet. “ if I win, I get the money, and I get to shag you, properly.” He opens a cider for himself, and cheers to Merlin from across the room.

“Deal.” He rises his glass, and both of them go back to their task, as if nothing ever happened.

Percy enters the Rising Sun again, and finds his spot at the bar. He finishes his drink, and chitchats with Gwaine. It's now 8pm, and everybody is ready to open.

______________

Arthur is back in his flat, still fuming at his father. Apparently, filling up the mountain of paperwork and giving it back to him at seven was not good enough. He had expected it to be done by five, and could not hide his disappointment. Arthur growls, and discards his jacket on a tack by his front door. He lets himself fall on his sofa and props his feet on the small coffee table. He browses through the dozens of channels but nothing catches his interested and he growls again. It just wants everything to stop. His work, his life. For once, he wishes he could just step down of this merry-go-around that life is, and just be a passer-by. He doesn’t look for an eternal exit, just a break, a break from being alive. He chuckles bitterly, realising he basically wishes he could be in a coma, and takes a large gulp from his freshly opened beer. His thoughts are cut by his phone vibrating on the table glass top. He sees Morgana’s name on the screen and with curiosity, reads the text.

**We all meet tonight at 10. Rising Sun**.

He had forgotten. He checks his phone. He has an hour and a half to spare. A quick look on Google map, and he decides that he will take a cab, not fancying a thirty minute walk. So he has an hour. Great. With a total lack of motivation, he undresses and jumps in the shower. He emerges, grab a clean suit, and gets ready. He doesn’t even know when was the last time he looked at himself in the mirror. He hates it. His face reflects the golden letters of his name, proudly standing on his desk, and he deeply hates it. He ties his leather shoes, places a tie pin on his deep blue tie, attaches his watch back on his wrists, and wonders if he is getting dressed, or dressing up. He now has fifteen to spare, and feels too self aware, standing in his living room. An other beer it is.

_________

It was now ten, and Gwaine was still looking for Merlin's next victim. The bartender still wants to find a man remotely attractive, but no one is catching his eyes.

From his piano, Merlin smiles at him, both knowing anyway that if they find no one to fulfil their challenge, they will probably end up together.

But as a group of five is strolling towards the bar, they both know that the game is on.

Gwaine spots a man, that anyone in their right mind would find attractive. Large shoulders, blond hair, beautiful blue eyes, but what catches the bartender's attention, is the aura of misery surrounding the man. This guy doesn’t want to be here. Hell, he probably doesn’t even want to be alive, Gwaine thinks.

He makes their drink, and the small groups sit in a booth, right by the stage.

The bartender grabs a glass and fills it with ice, before joining Merlin, by the piano. He drops an ice cube in the musician’s whiskey, and whispers in his ears.

“Sad Blondie, front row.” Merlin acquiesces, smiling like a predator. Up until now, Merlin had been playing random tunes, singing time to time but as the night was burning away, he knew it was time to bring his best weapon. Gwaine sees a change of posture in the pianist, and laughs. This is not gonna be boring.

Merlin keeps playing with his left hand, and takes an other shot, eyes locked on the lucky- or unlucky- man.

________

“And she did!” Gwen laughs. Lance, Mithian and Morgana follow her in a round of laughs, but Arthur has no idea what there are talking about. His gaze is directed towards the bubble dying on the surface of his drink. His friends, or colleagues – he doesn’t even know what they could be called – don’t seem to realise he has a total lack of interests in this evening, and they carry on, talking about nothing and anything.

His mind is far gone, only to jump back at certain piano notes. He is even too far gone to realise the pianist, right before him, is eating him with his eyes. And to be fair, not a single soul in the club tonight is actually paying too much attention to the performing artist, but Merlin is used to perform as a background noise, which is only to please him : he can sing and do what he wants, and gets wasted on stage, and no one bats an eye. This only make this bet more interesting, as he had always loved a real challenge.

With half a bottle running through his veins, he shakes his head and smirks. Let’s do it.

Morgana asks Arthur something, at which he just let’s out a small ‘I don’t know’, not totally aware of the question.

Some of the chatting within the club stops, as the piano notes echo within the wall. Well, at least they are listening now, Merlin tells himself, rolling his eyes. It’s a classic, but he hopes it will catch Blondie’s attention.

“Yes Arthur, you do know that song. Mother always played it were we kid.” Morgana says, a bit of nostalgia in her voice. Was it what she asked him before? Arthur doesn’t know. The mention of his mother only brings him more down.

_He says, “Son, can you play me a memory ?_

His mother was such a beautiful woman. Het blond hair, which he had inherited, fell on each side of her porcelain face, and her smile could chase away any ache a child might have.

_I'm not sure how it goes_

He doesn’t remember her voice, or her laugh, but he knows she used to kiss him goodnight.

_But it’s sad and it’s sweet and I know it complete_

_When I wore a younger man's clothes._

Until the day he was the one kissing her goodnight, on this hospital bed. For some time, he thought she would wake up, but she never did. And as the years were passing, the memories were fading.

_Sing us a song, you’re the piano man_

_Sing us song tonight_

_Well, we’re all in the mood for a melody_

_And you got us feeling alright._

For the first time of the evening, Arthur’s eyes stopped on the musician. _The piano man_. He has a three day old stubble, and messy black hair. His skin looks like he had never seen the sun. His long and pale fingers were dancing on the white and black keys, and his eyes were close. His body is moving along with the melody, and Arthur can imagine a thin toned body under the fitted black shirt the man his wearing, top buttons undone. Long legs are hidden in a black pair of jeans, and a worn pair of leather shoes is moving to the rhythm under the piano.

_... is a friend of mine_

_He gets me my drinks for free_

Arthur doesn’t even listen to him anymore, overflowed by emotions as his deep voice sings, and yes, he does know the song. The voice, tainted by its Irish roots, makes Arthur aware he is in a club, makes him aware he is supposed to be enjoying a good times with his friends. He drinks half of his pint. Even if his gaze is on the dark haired pianist, he just blocks out everything. Maybe this is what he needed, getting wasted, listening to music, and just not caring. Maybe this was the break his was looking for all along. Just enough booze to blur his mind, and a piano to sing louder than his thought.

_Sing us a song, you're the piano man_

Arthur freezes, as two blue orbs meet his own. It feels like the man is singing just for him now, and the blond can’t get his smile out of his mind.

_Sing us a song tonight_

_Please_ , thinks Arthur. _Don’t stop singing_. The voice tunes down his thoughts.

Behind the bar, Gwaine is shaking his head. Merlin clearly knows what he is doing, and he is good at it.

The notes slowly die, and Merlin gives a pick at the bar, at which the bartender flips him the finger, faking annoyance. He chuckles, and keeps playing the simple melody with his right hand, and drinks directly from the bottle from his left. Consciously or not, Arthur does the same.

Merlin carries on, improvising rhythm on his piano. To the crowd, he looks like a man enjoying his time on stage and the music. To Gwaine, he looks like a handsome devil planning his next move.

Mithian comes back with an other round, and Arthur can't lie, he is starting to feel tipsy ; two beers on an empty stomach for someone who normally doesn’t drink much , it’s no surprise. He mindlessly cheers with them. He always said that alcohol was not the answer, but his conviction was slowly shattering as more beer was making his way through his blood. Morgana, Gwen, and Mithian are sipping on their second long island iced tea, giggling about some random gossip. Lance, midway through his still first cider, listens to them, eyes sweating with love for Gwen. Time to time, he chuckles with them. Arthur is glad to get unnoticed, and decides to get wasted.

The piano is now letting escapes more constructed notes, like a weird reminiscence of something you heard before. Arthur is convinced that the pianist glanced at him and his pint, before nodding to himself.

Merlin glances at the bar, in a silent statement to Gwaine, telling him to watch. The bartender, half sitting on a stool behind a bar, rolls his eyes as he drinks his cider.

_Show me the way_

Merlin's finger seem to move in slow motion, and his voice his now even lower, almost breaking.

_To the next whisky bar_

His nose buried in his glass, Arthur can feel the man’s eyes on him.

_Oh, don’t ask why_

Merlin looks at the ceiling, knowing he is getting closer to winning, as Blondie chucks the rest of his drink.

_Oh, don’t ask why._

Arthur slams a bit awkwardly his empty pint glass on the table, and Morgana looks at him, barely hiding her mischief.

“Now that’s what I’m talking about brother!” the table laughs, and Arthur is sure the pianist did I as well. He gives them a shy smile, and claps his hands together, determined.

“Shots. On me.” The girls cheer and lance punches him in the shoulder as a thank you, Arthur guesses. He makes his way to the bar, and orders ten shots. He doesn’t mind the overly flirtatious bartender, and thinks that any other time, he would have flirted back. When was the last time he got laid? He doesn’t even remember, and would not be surprise if je would be able to claim his virginity back at that point.

“A preference for the shots?”

“Something strong enough to kill a horse.” Gwaine laughs. For sure, Blondie was miserable.

_For if we don’t find the next whiskey bar_

Gwaine places the shots on a tray, and Arthur sighs. He downs two of them, and asks for two more. The bartender grabs a bottle of god knows what, and refills the glasses, gladly.

_I tell you we must die_

_I tell you we must die_

Arthur pays for it, and makes his way back to his friends. He is welcomed with half drunken cheers. He drinks his two shots – which makes it now four but they don’t have to know – and shakes off the burning feeling.

The rest of the song is drowned by the girl's story, about the accountant from the first floor he thinks. Actually, he is not even sure if the pianist ever actually sang the rest of the songs. All he knows, is that presently, the pale man, which despite the half emptied bottle on the piano, doesn’t show any sign of intoxication, is rising his own glass to Arthur. He blames the alcohol, but he feels his cheek blushing slightly.

Now polishing glasses, Gwaine is wondering if he actually has two hundreds cash on him or if he needs to find an ATM, cause it seems he is about to lose the bet.

Alcohol relaxes Arthur, who even starts to participate in the discussion. Lance got the last round, and he now has a new glass filled with beer. Unlike before, he drinks this one slower, trying to enjoy it. His eyes turn briefly towards the piano, and he sees the man drinking messily a large gulp of whisky.

He looks back at Mithian, who talks about the stupidity of their current shortage : paperclips.

Arthur listens, or is trying to focus, as he recognises the next song. The _bastard_ , he thinks, hoping he can throw dagger with his eyes to the man. He actually finds himself smiling to the pianist, who smiles back, almost victoriously.

_I was happy in the haze of a drunken hour_

Arthur stops smiling, and drowns his thoughts in beer. He knows what’s coming.

_But Heaven knows I’m miserable now._

The pianist shrugs his shoulders in a form of fake apology. Half of his beer disappears in a second. He feels like the man songs is to him, personally, and it hurts to believe even a guy busy playing an instrument had seen how miserable he was.

_...I found a job_

_And heaven knows I’m miserable know_

His suit feels heavy on his shoulder. His tie tightens around his neck, or so he believes. The golden letters on his desk flash before his eyes. Uther's voice rings in his ears, becoming louder than the weirdly reassuring Irish one.

_In my life, why do I give valuable time_

_To people who don’t care if I live_

_Or die_

He sighs, and kills his third pint. He smacks his lips together and exhaled deeply again.

_Two lovers entwined pass me by_

He turns his focus back to the musician, whose tone is now unsettlingly innocent.

_And heaven knows I’m miserable know_

Oh. The business man straighten himself, and rubs his hand on his knees. The pianist is not breaking the eye contact, and it feels like an invitation. He clears his throat, and leaves the table. Gwen handles him few notes, and is off to the bar again. On his way, he hears the dark haired man carrying on with song, his tone suddenly lighter. If a voice could smile, this one was beaming with joy.

“Three long islands, a pint of Strongbow and... a whisky sour.”

“Right away!” Arthur thanks him, and makes a point to turn his back to the stage. He reads the labels of the bottles displayed above the bar, but still taps his finger along to the piano notes . He realises the man is just playing some random tune, almost as if he was... waiting. Or searching. From the inaudible noises, Arthur makes out some lyrics.

_Hey babe, take a walk on the wild side_

He shakes his head.

_Hey babe_

He feels like the man his calling him. The bartender, deep in the making of the cocktails, actually laughs. Arthur feels stuck in the middle of a game of which he doesn’t know the rule. His eyes are now scanning the room, and no one seems to pay attention at what is happening.

_Take a walk on the wild side_

"Don’t bother with the whiskey sour, I’ll take it in the rocks. Double.” The singing voice is slow, almost a whisper, but so intimate. He dares to look back at the piano, and the man has his eyes closed, and his pillowed pink lips are kissing the mic, as he lets out the same words, each time more sensually than before.

_Hey babe, take a walk on the wild side_

The crystal blue eyes finds him at the bar, and the musician winks at him. Arthur tries his best to convince himself that he is not getting turned on, and bites the inside if his cheeks. The bartender taps him on the shoulder, and points to the drinks, ready and standing on the bar.

“His name is Merlin.” Gwaine says, now pointing at the stage. Arthur drops the money on the bar, and tells him to keep the change. He is happy to be sitting again, being able to hide the start of his erection. _Merlin_. Alcohol might be the answer, but a shag would definitely put him back on track. Merlin keeps looking at him, and he doesn’t know if there is still some music being played or not.

He makes his ice cube dance in his whiskey, and lightly rises his glass to the pianist. And it doesn’t go unnoticed. With his long fingers, he grabs his Redbreast bottle and drinks, for him. A silent agreement. No matter where this is going, Arthur is ready for the ride.

Merlin does not look back at the bar, his focus only being Blondie. It was more than a silly bet right now. When the man was standing at the bar, his eyes adventures themselves on his body. He doesn’t remember the last time he had let himself being possessed by a man. He usually ends up being the one giving, much to his own pleasure. Some might say he was a selfish partner, and some days, he definitely was. But he had the chance to always find someone when he needed a wank, and he could not care less about the other's feelings. But his little warm up with the bartender earlier had left me hungry for more.

He tries his best to keep his composure as pictures of Blondie deep inside him come rushing to him. His fingers are playing in the keys randomly, and he takes a deep breath.

Arthur can see the man is looking for his words – for his song, and he patiently waits. A well known sample starts, and he smiles, his glass at the border of his lips.

_Sweet dreams are made of this_

He takes a small sip, and licks his lips. He rises his eyebrows when the expected lyrics doesn’t follow

_Some of them wants to abuse you_

He smiles. Too drunk to even care anymore.

_Some of them want to be abused_

Merlin's voice is almost begging at this point. He knows the whiskey has just hit him, he knows he is hard down in his trousers, he knows Blondie can’t take his eyes out of him. He knows he is not gonna be able to walk tomorrow. He doesn’t care about his musical integrity, and changes again. No one in the room has a clue about the ridiculous game happening between Blondie and him, and to have so many people around him just makes him want to go further. He plays, nothing and everything, hoping something will come to him, and he can see Blondie amusingly smiling at him and his lack of inspiration.

He grabs his bottle, and lets the alcohol run down his throat. Arthur, half focused on his friend, hides his growing arousal as much as he can, but having this pair of blue daggers now locked on him doesn’t make it easy. He tries to look decently interested in the story being shared at the table, his glass in one hand, a straw in the other.

_So messed up, I want you here_

His words are slow. None of the songs sounds like their original, none are ever finished.

_In my room, I want you there_

Arthur swallows. He totally gives up the pretences, and stop listening to his friends. All his attention is on the pianist. He sings like if no-one is watching them. He begs. His eyes are closed, and his breathing can be heard between words.

Behind the bar, Gwaine takes out his wallet. Luckily, he does have the change. He places the money in an envelope under the till. He leans on the counter, watching Merlin giving every thing on every words. It took the man less than an hour to charm the most miserable man present tonight, and Gwaine let out a sad smile, disappointed to know he would not be the one getting Merlin tonight. He pours himself a new cider.

_And now, I wanna be your dog_

_Now, I wanna be your dog_

Arthur groans as his trousers become uncomfortable. Lance checks on him, and Arthur just says that he has bitten the tip of his tongue. Worse excuse, but lost in drunkenness, it works.

Merlin finishes his bottle. Gwaine can not watch him being so sexually frustrated on stage and decides to give him a hand. He turns on the sound system under the till, and tries to get his attention. The pianist hears the first note of one of those always-the-same summer hits, and turns to the bar, where Gwaine is stupidly grinning, pointed to stereo and giving a thumb up, before gesturing him to get off the stage. The customers don’t realise the change, and Merlin leaves, his empty bottle still on the piano.

Before Arthur can say or do something, Merlin squeezes himself between him and Morgana. They all look at the pianist a bit confused.

“Hey mate ! How are you doing! It’s been like...what...ten years since the last I saw you!?” Merlin’s Irish accent is even stronger when he is not singing, and it takes Arthur all his inner strength to not ravish him right here, right now. He chuckles though, surprised by the lie Merlin has come up with.

“Yeah, about ten years, give it take.” Merlin exhales loudly, hearing Blondie’s voice for the time. It’s so English, so posh and that does not turn him off, at all.

“Can I steal him away from you for a second?” Merlin asks the random people around the table, and all just brush it off with uninterested ‘yeah', too drunk to care.

Gwaine passes by the booth, and collects the empty glasses. He had cancelled Elyan's shift earlier. He makes his way towards Merlin and hands him some keys. He leans towards the two men.

“Corridor, third door on the right. Up the stairs, second door on the left. That’s my room, don’t fuck it up.” And he winks, before finishing to collect the dirty glasses, whistling.

In less than a second, they are both standing and making their way to the back corridor. They pass the customer's toilets before opening the third door. As it swings open, Arthur grasp the pianist by his hips, and blocks him against the wall. In one kick, he closes the door behind them in a loid bang. The musician smells like cold ashes and tastes like whisky and he can’t get enough. Merlin doesn’t manage to stay quiet and groans as blondie’s hands are digging deeper on his sides. He breaks it off, to his own displeasure.

“Name?” he says, panting.

“Arthur.” He replies, mouth busy on the pale neck. Merlin jiggles the keys by Arthur’s ear. He snatches them, growling slightly. He gets up the stairs, and opens the door. Merlin strolled in the room. His eyes blurred by his favourite beverage, he only sees a bed in the corner. He jumps back on Arthur, and their tongue dances together, in a dirty and horny waltz.

The long pale fingers takes down the suit jacket, and they both kick their shoes off. They lost track of their own hands, messily going the other body. They just want to touch and to feel. Arthur’s hand find their way to Merlin’s ass, earning him a loud moan and a strangled please. He lets the pink lips go, and stares at the man. He pushes him backward, and he falls on the bed.

Before Merlin can even move, Arthur is on top of him, his legs on each side of his body. He can feel Merlin being so hard underneath him, and he can’t take his eyes of the man. He cracks open the pianist shirt and discovers an even paler chest, moving quickly, begging for air. He leans down and bites and kisses every inch of skin. He bloody missed it.

Merlin is just a mess of moans on the bed. He long fingers makes their way under blondie shirt, and are surprised by the warm of the skin, making him want more.

“Please Arthur.” He begs. Arthur moved to the side, and takes off his shirt, probably quicker than he ever did. Merlin can’t stop starring at the softly tanned skin now revealed before his eyes. He feels cold, now the man too far away from him. Arthur finishes to undress himself, and Merlin follows him. They don’t know where their clothes are now laying, and they didn’t care. Arthur turns Merlin on his stomach, and let out a deep ‘fuck' at the view of the perfect ass. He slaps it, and Merlin heavenly whines at the contact. He pushes his hips up, pleading Arthur to just take him already. The blond lays by Merlin side, rocking his own hard cock against Merlin hip, as his fingers travels from the milky back, by the neck, to end up in the pianist’s mouth, who greedily sucks them.

“Please.” Merlin’s body shakes from desire. Arthur moans and passes an arm under Merlin. The pianist seizes the fingers from his mouth, and guides them to his hole.

“fuck me. Arthur. Fuck. Me.” Roughly, Arthur inserts two fingers, and Merlin's whole body tenses, as a long cry fills up the room. But the musician doesn’t stop, and starts rocking on the fingers. Arthur tries his best to not come at the view, and makes his way down Merlin’s ass. He kisses it and bites it to suppress his own dirty cries. He takes his fingers out and spits on them, before plunging three of them in Merlin, whose body is now twisting, in a mix of pain and pleasures. He keeps rocking his hips, wanting more, despite the burning sensation. He props himself on his knees and elbow and fucks Arthur hands obscenely.

“I want you. Please. Fuck.” Arthur gives up on the rest of his self control, takes out his fingers, getting even harder at the view of the dilated hole. He mentally thanks the bartender for having a box of condoms on the bedtable and grabs one. He places the head of his cock at the entrance, and slowly pushes in. Merlin's voice is loud, and broken, and doesn’t make sense. He knows he is moaning loudly, he knows that anyone walking down the street could hear him over the muffled music from the club, but he just wants to be fucked out of his mind.

In one movement, he pushes his hips backward, welcoming Arthur fully inside of him. Arthur takes it as his queue to start moving, and he does. One of his hand is clenched in the mess of black hair, and the other is repeatedly slapping Merlin's ass, harder and harder, as he gets deeper and deeper. There’s no love, no feelings. Just two needy bodies, using the other to reach their own desire.

Arthur comes, and Merlin follows him just after. They fall in the bed, sweating and dizzy. But they are both smiling. Without a word, Arthur sits on the edge of the bed, and gets rid of the condom in a nearby bin. He then dresses himself. Merlin giggles, and grabs his shirt, now missing most of its buttons. He uses it to clean himself and throws it in the corner of the room. He covers himself with the blanket, and watches Arthur tying his shoes.

“Tell Gwaine, the bartender, he'll find me here at the end of his shift alright?” Merlin's voice his barely audible, half asleep. Arthur laughs and says ok, before leaving the room.

On his way down the stairs, he stops by the loo and looks at himself. Yup, he looks rough and stinks of sex, but he hasn’t felt this alive in a long time. He stops by the bar, orders a beer, and tells Gwaine that Merlin is waiting upstairs. The bartender grins, and tells blondie that the beer is on the house.

He checks his phone. Two hours until closing time. For the first time, he wishes for his Tuesday shift to be done already.

**Author's Note:**

> By order of appearance: 
> 
> Piano man - Billy Joel  
> Alabama song- The Doors  
> Heaven knows I'm miserable now - The Smiths  
> Walk on the wild side - Lou reed  
> Sweet dreams - Eurythmics  
> I wanna be your dog - The stooges 
> 
> Alright! I hope you enjoyed this Merlin version. Can't help it, I'm loving for a slutty Merlin tbh... ! And had always thought his fingers would be perfect to play the piano!! 
> 
> Thank you for reading, and see you next time!!


End file.
